


Waffles

by CyanideRadiance



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, College, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, I have nothing to say to defend myself, I’m a mess and rayllum did it to me, Smut, it’s just shameless smut, plot? never heard of her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21554887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyanideRadiance/pseuds/CyanideRadiance
Summary: A quiet night turns interesting after Callum arrives at Rayla’s door armed with alcohol and a hunger for waffles. Things start to get a little complicated when Rayla’s hand slips, and Callum is helpless to stop her.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 239





	Waffles

**Author's Note:**

> Y’all know what this is. Enjoy my first crack at smut.  
> ALSO the waffle recipe in here is a legit recipe. LMK if you want a cohesive version of it lol. Literally the best waffles I’ve ever had, but none of us are really here for recipes.
> 
> Another also: thanks Porsche for sort of beta-ing and basically feeding the writing beast in me.

Although it had just become evening and she’d gotten home not ten minutes earlier, Rayla had already changed into her pjs. She had just gotten started on her first bottle of wine. It had been a long day. Or week, semester, year. It was her second semester since switching majors from kinesiology to philosophy. All it took was one class,  _ one stupid, hard class _ , and she was sold.

Physical as she was, something about the questions regarding the world and their existence just… It messed her up inside, but it in a way that was productive. Kines may have tested her body, but not her mind. And that other aspect was something she’d never realized she’d been missing.

But,  _ fuck,  _ if it wasn’t immensely hard. She’d have been on her second year of grad school had she not switched. But it was worth it, even the summer sessions. She loved what she was doing.

Her phone began ringing, jarring her from her thoughts. She glanced at the time, frowning at the blinking numbers. It was almost seven. She didn’t bother checking the caller as she answered.

“Hello?” She cringed slightly at the sleepiness in her voice. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Hello?”

“Ray!”

It was Callum? 

“Hey, what’s up, Callum?” She sat up straighter, placing the bottle on her coffee table. It clinked loudly on the glass, and the sound made her wince.

She heard him exhale heavily. “A-Are you doing anything? Like right now?”

She shook her head, but it took her a moment to remember he couldn’t see her. “Besides getting drunk on wine? Not particularly.” There was a pause, and she could practically hear him overthinking his decisions away. A laugh bubbled out of her where she’d normally suppress it. It was fall break, she was allowed to relax a little. “I can hear you thinking, Prince. Just spit it out already.”

He made a noise of disgust at the nickname, but she couldn’t help it. His stepdad was a big businessman, and he was set to follow in his footsteps. Cal was modern day royalty, and it was only fitting she recognized as much. It might’ve helped that it always bothered him, even if it was just a smidgen.

“Do you mind if I come over?”

She stood up and made her way to the calendar. That wasn’t right. It was Thanksgiving, though. He and his family always had a huge Thanksgiving dinner, and it had just started. She had actually just gotten home from his place, arms almost overflowing from leftovers his mother forced into her hands. She loved spending the holiday with them, but some years were harder than others. And this was one of the years where she had to go home as soon as politely possible. She was just  _ tired _ and socializing well into the late hours of the night wasn’t something she wanted to do. Last year, it had gotten so late that she ended up sleeping over, as Sarai would hear nothing about her going home.

“But they haven’t even brought dessert out yet, have they?”

Something was wrong.

“Viren… He’s here.” 

_ Ah, there it is. _ Viren. She didn’t really know the history, but she knew it was ugly. 

“You know you’re always welcome. But I have every intention of getting fucked up tonight, and you aren’t about to stop me.”

“Stop you? Maybe join you, but that’s about it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then you’d better bring alcohol with you.  _ My _ stash isn’t paying the price for  _ your  _ drunkenness.”

“Deal. Be there in twenty.”

She raised her wine bottle up into the air. “Cheers to that,” she said before hanging up.

She was a mess, and easily four bottles of assorted alcohol into her endeavor. She wasn’t sure how many hours had passed, but she and Callum had dissolved into a messy game of Risk. After she’d lost track of her shot count, the game had become a back and forth of the pair yelling at each other. 

“That move wasn’t valid!”

“Why are some of your cubes in my region? That’s an unprovoked invasion!”

“You literally can’t just claim land as yours without rolling. You’re defeating the purpose of the game.”

On and on they went. She hadn’t laughed this much—drunk  _ or  _ sober— in a really long time.

“Ray, I’m getting kind of hungry,” Callum said after their sixth reset. He’d stopped drinking a while ago, and she could see he was practically sobered up. She’d finally finished the last bottle of vodka he’d brought her and had instead begun to down water like she was a dying fish. She wasn’t about to let either of them wake up with a nasty hangover.

“I… I think I have stuff for waffles?”

He laughed and helped her up. “Hey, you’ve almost stopped slurring your words!” he told her encouragingly.

“You’re not funny,” she deadpanned as she swayed slightly. The room was spinning just barely, but it was a step up from where she’d been two hours ago. Unfortunately, she was sobering up, too. “What time is it?” It was hard to focus on the hands of her clock in the hallway.

Callum glanced at his watch. “It’s almost three.”

“Oh, dude. Let’s make waffles,” she breathed, almost reverently. “There’s nothing like breakfast late at night.”

“Something about the forbiddenness of it all makes it taste better,” Callum confirmed.

She placed a hand against his chest as she listed a bit too much to the side again. “I’m… I’m just going to really need your help,” she told him slowly, making an effort to articulate better.

Judging by his smile, it only made her sound sillier. “Of course. You have the recipe, right?”

She rolled her eyes and nudged him a bit. “You know it, too. My brain is kind of foggy, but I’m sure we can help fill in any of the gaps the other has.”

Rayla began collecting the ingredients, mumbling them to herself as Callum began taking out the utensils they would need. “Flour, sugar, whipping cream, vanilla extract, coconut extract, baking powder, baking soda…” She trailed off, the chill of the open fridge against her bare legs almost uncomfortable. She found herself wishing she’d worn a pair of fuzzy pants instead. Sometimes the apartment was just too cold to be a normally functioning person, but she loved being cold. Because it meant she could use blankets. Her blanket repertoire was stunning, throws everywhere a person could imagine. Her favorite one—

“Earth to Ray. Are you done getting everything.”

“Sorry, sorry. I got sidetracked,” she admitted, propping her hip against the counter as she looked into the fridge once more. “Am I missing anything?”

He leaned over her shoulder, breath stirring some of the hairs against her neck. She shivered at the sensation. “I think you need butter, eggs, and—“ she turned to him, surveying his profile. His voice suddenly dipped. “And chocolate chips.”

His shift in tone flipped a biological switch, and she suddenly found herself wanting to cause all sorts of chaos. She subtly shifted her legs, slightly rubbing her thighs together. This was all sorts of bad. She was feeling antsy and reckless, and the lingering traces of alcohol always made her bolder. She tucked her hair behind her ear and took the last contents out of the fridge. She bit her lip, fingers clenching at the hem of her shorts.

_ Behave,  _ she warned herself. 

Callum had just finished assembling the batter when he looked up at her. “Do you think we should make a second batch?”

She pursed her lips, surveying the content inside the bowl. Depending “How hungry are you?” Because she was starving. Unfortunately, some of it wasn’t going to be fixed with food, but she’d deal with it later.

“Like I could probably eat this whole batch by myself,” he admitted. 

“Then we should just make another.” She pointed at the bowl, but miscalculated the distance. She found her index finger stuck in the batter. She slowly pulled it out, trying to not make a mess. Her hands scrambled across the counter for her napkins. Just before she wiped it off, Callum reached out and grabbed her wrist.

“Wait, what do you think you’re doing?” He sounded appalled.

“I’m cleaning my hand? What did you think I was doing?”

“Are you crazy? These are literally the best waffles known to mankind. You can’t waste batter like that!” He guided her hand to his lips, and she watched in heated horror as her index disappeared into his mouth. His tongue wrapped around her finger pad, and her thoughts went haywire. She couldn’t help but wonder what if felt like to have his mouth on other places. Dangerous places.

His eyes met hers for a moment, and she knew she was reddening. Was that little pant hers? His gaze moved to her opened mouth, and emerald darkened with a different kind of hunger.

He released her captive appendage, giving it one last lick. “Don’t… Don’t waste the batter,” he instructed, his own chest moving a bit faster.

Very deliberately, she reached her hand back into the bowl, taking some more of the waffle mixture. She placed some on her neck, but he made no move to halt her disregard. Instead, he stepped closer, leaning his head down. He kissed her neck gently before pulling away.

“Oh, I… I missed a spot,” he sighed, leaning once more to lick at her again.

She did it again, this time placing the cool blend right above her clothed sternum. A part of her wished she’d been covered up more, but the larger part of her wished it was less. Or even nothing.

She watched his Adam’s apple bob, and he glanced at her for approval. But she was making the moves now. She wasn’t going to stop him. She took her offending finger and sucked on it, tongue poking out and lingering a bit.

His gaze never left her actions, unblinking and intense. Wild and hungry, just like she was.

_ Push me, _ she urged almost desperately in her mind.  _ See how far you can push me, Callum. Please. _

And it seemed like he got the message. His hands went to her hips, nudging slightly at the elastic band of her sleeping shorts. His thumbs slipped under her tank, helping kindle the fire growing within her. She felt his breath on her heated skin, felt his smile against her.

He lifted her up, sat her on the counter. He was about level with her chest. He placed his hands on the granite, caging her thighs in. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She placed a hand on his chest, nudging him back a little. Her mind was screaming at her to stop, but she was tired of adhering to personal rules. She spread her legs, battered hand rubbing carefully against her inner thigh. “Maybe,” she began breathily, “Just maybe, I have this sort of itch that I can’t really scratch.”

“Oh?” He squatted down, warm exhale against her making her quake. He hadn’t even touched her, but she was strung so tight.

“Yeah. And maybe I want—  _ need  _ your help, actually.”

He nodded slowly, his silky strands against her legs, instinctively making her shift closer. “I think  _ maybe  _ I can help with that.” 

His mouth was on her, lapping at the batter that had just begun to drip onto the counter. “Maybe that’s good, that’s good,” she said hurriedly, burying a hand into his head as hers fell back against the kitchen cabinets.

He was so close to where she wanted him to be. If he just tilted his head just that way— Her breath caught as he licked at her through her clothes. He stood back up, uncooked waffles all over his face. And it looked like— She shook her head. She was already riled up. This wasn’t helping. 

He picked up some batter, drawing a line across her skin from the nape of her neck to a bit beyond her shoulder, moving her strap away. He followed the trail before moving to kiss her clothed chest. Instantly, she was hard, the texture of her shirt against her sensitive skin making her hips wriggle against him.

He pushed her shirt up and over her head, biting his lip as he placed the waffle mixture against her. Right where he had just kissed her.

_ Oh, shit. _

“M-Maybe you can tell me that waffle recipe again? I think we’ll need to make a second batch,” she told him, sweetness of the raw batter on her tongue as he kissed her fervently.

He nodded, mouth against her chest once more. “ _ One cup of flour, _ ” he mumbled against her sensitive and perked skin, teeth just barely nipping against her. Her body snapped at the sensation, finally recognizing the length pressed into her.

He trailed fiery butterfly kisses down her body, helping her out of her shorts. One hand went back up to her chest, the other digging into one of her thighs as he encouraged her to open up further.

“ _ Half a cup of sugar, _ ” he continued as he pushed her underwear off to the side.  _ There’s no way _ , she said, eyes wide. He wasn’t going to—

“Fuck _ ,” _ she gasped, hips jerking forward at the foreign and wet sensation between her legs. It didn’t take long for her body to begin a warning pulsation in time with his ministrations. “Please. Just a bit—“ Her back arched and her legs trembled for a moment as the world around her stilled. She crested over an invisible threshold, shaking her head in loss. Her fingers curled into his hair almost painfully, but the smile against her core told her he wasn’t bothered.

“ _ One egg.”  _

She pulled him up and wrapped her arms around him, taking a moment to recover. Once she had caught her breath, she jumped down to her knees before him, hands making quick work of his jeans.

She licked her lips in anticipation. Carnal delight danced within her, and she wanted him to feel the same. She carefully placed her hands and mouth upon him. “Rayla,  _ oh my God. _ ” She bobbed her head in agreement. The heat of him in her mouth was almost too much for her. The fact that  _ she _ was the one that did  _ this  _ to him was nearly enough to make her burst once more.

“ _ One cup of whipping cream.” _

She had never felt so powerful, never felt more in control. She may have been on her knees, but he was hopelessly wrapped around her. No longer was she drunk on alcohol, but now she was drunk on power. Femininity surged through her veins, pushed her to tease him and deconstruct him down until he was nothing but a messy heap in her hands.

And judging by his cries, she was getting there.

As her hands began to slicken, she pulled away, watching in vague interest as a line of fluid, be it hers or his, kept them strangely connected. This was all sorts of messy, but her body was buzzing with excitement. Anticipation. 

She wanted to paint the walls with their intertwined bodies, stain the floor with their grasping handprints.

“M-Maybe we should go to my…”

He nodded, cheeks flushed. “Maybe,” he said, taking her hand and tugging her out of the kitchen.

“Wait!” She pulled away and hurried over to their unmade waffles. “Can’t waste any batter,” she told him with a wink. She placed the bowl into the refrigerator before returning to his side. He chuckled, placing his lips against hers gently. 

“Only you would go back for waffle batter, Rayla.” He was clearly amused.

She rolled her eyes, kissing him again. “It’s multipurpose. Why would I leave it out to go bad?”

He shrugged in agreement, lips tilting upwards as she pulled him along to her room. She fell back onto her bed, scooting back as he crawled in after her. She placed a palm against his chest, feeling his heart beating as fast as her own.

“No STDs? No STIs I need to worry about?” 

He nuzzled his nose against her nape with a soft laugh. “No and no. Any I need to worry about from  _ you _ ? BC taken care of?” 

It was her turn to giggle. “No and yes, I’m all clear. And you’re sure? You’re sure this is what you want?”

Callum pulled away, bending close to her face. “Maybe, right now, it’s the only thing I can really think about,” he admitted.

Her hands went to his cheeks, and she brought him down to her lips. “Then maybe you should shut up and make it happen,” she challenged.

His touch left frigid valleys across her scorching skin. She rolled them over, her palm guiding him to her. Slowly, she descended, unable to help the gasp that escaped. It took some time, twisting and rocking, before the discomfort fully dissipated, giving way to fulfillment. 

“ _ Half a teaspoon of vanilla extract. Half a teaspoon of coconut extract.” _

“Callum,” she cried, body taking over as her brain became a sole receptor and interpreter of feeling. Little zings of pleasure slithered across her skin, almost like electricity. She was alive and writhing, violent storm swirling within her. 

And he was hopelessly caught up in the tempest.

“ _ A teaspoon of baking powder. Half a teaspoon of baking soda.” _

He was babbling near nonsense, but the desperate timber of his voice, the trembling gasps and enraptured cries made her insides steadily tense in preparation.

They  _ listened _ . They listened to each other carefully. That little hitch. A sudden shaky groan. 

And they  _ watched.  _ Their gazes remained vigilant. Seeing a wince morph into slackened jaws searching for air.

It was strange, she decided somewhere in the back of her foggy mind. They were so caught up in the other. She had a million insecurities, but none of them registered in the moment. Where she’d try and hide her body, she found that she didn’t care. He was reverent, whispering and stumbling sweet honesties against her.

Their hands were gentle at first, tracing intricate tattoos on delicate skin. Tongues carving heady rivers against salted flesh.

“ _ Two tablespoons melted butter.” _

But then his hand trailed down, pressing and rubbing into the button right above where they connected. “You can’t— That’s— Holy  _ shit _ , please. Don’t… Just keep— Oh,” she keened, head falling back. 

His other hand gripped at the hair against her neck, pulling her down to meet his lips in a careless clash. There were teeth and tongues, and needy breathing. As the savage abandon within her grew, so did the jerkiness of their movements.

“With me, Ray. Don’t stop moving with me,” he heaved into her ear.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, a nearly sanctified mantra that beat in time with her core. Her veins. Her heart.

“I’m almost there. Don’t be afraid. Let go.”

She nodded, and allowed herself to jump over the edge. She was like a rubber band stretched so far it had no choice but to snap into pieces. She cried out alongside Callum, their voices in a thoughtless tandem. Her back arched once more, toes curling in as her fingers dug into his shoulders. His own poked into the skin of her hips. Dragged down to the tops of her thighs. His tongue lapped at whatever inch of skin he could find. Her chest. Her stomach, her chin.

“ _ And chocolate chips.” _

He was  _ everywhere,  _ and the sugar coating her tongue was flavored the sweat from his skin.

She fell forward, hugging him tightly, even as their slick skin scraped against one another. She was throbbing, her brain nearly mush as prickling sensations kept her grounded.

_ “They can always be subbed for something else, though. Like blueberries.” _

Callum stroked her hair as she listened to the rapid movement of his heart. “So,” he said, the vibration of his voice sending minuscule waves across her. “Did you manage to scratch that itch from earlier?”

She laughed, leaning up to peck him. “Yes. But I think maybe I’ll need your help again. If you don’t mind, of course.”

“Maybe I don’t mind. Maybe I’d mind even less if you’d like to be my girlfriend?” He chuckled, palm pressing against the dip of her lower back. “Although we did do this thing all sorts of backwards.”

“I want to be your girlfriend. No maybes there.”

They stayed like that, entangled. Hands playing idly, and lips finding purchase on whatever skin they could reach without struggle.

“So… About those waffles,” he told her.

She rolled her eyes, extracting herself from him with care. “Yes, yes. It would seem I’m still hungry.”

“Yeah, we’re going to need that second batch of batter after all. I swear you nearly wasted  _ half  _ of the first one I made.”

Rayla’s eyebrow raised in interest. “Wasted, you say?”

His eyes scanned across her body lazily, smug and devious smile slowly spreading across his face. “Maybe not wasted.”

“No,” she agreed. “Maybe not.”

That waffle recipe really  _ was  _ the best in the world. She always knew it had been her favorite for a reason.


End file.
